Memory Jog
by Captain Frankle
Summary: Marco's halloween costume is quite...convincing. Jean x Marco Modern reincarnation AU.


A/N: I do not own Attack on Titan or anything that I write about ever.

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Jean drove up to Marco's house, his palms sweating. Their friend Connie was having a halloween party and, as always, Jean had demanded that he took Marco in his beaten up, but undeniably reliable, car. It wasn't _just_ because he wanted to spend an extra few minutes alone talking to his best friend but because he knew Marco's current obsession with all things technological led him to spending hours on the computer when he should be getting outside like a normal teenager. Admittedly, he did spend a fair amount of that time shouting at Jean and his inability to play Titan Smash 2 over their headsets but Marco was always the one to suggest it.

The two boys had met through a mutual friend called Mikasa who knew Marco from the table tennis club at school (over which she dominated) and Jean as he had attended elementary, middle and high school together with her. Jean had turned up at the club mainly to try and impress Mikasa (he had been practicing his serve technique in his garden after school everyday) when his eyes had spied the tanned, freckled boy from across the school hall. Instantly he had felt some weird kind of recognition, as if he had seen the boy in a dream. He had turned around and as sandy brown met grey, both boys seemed to not be able to draw their eyes away. It wasn't until Mikasa hit Jean in the eye with the table tennis ball that she had been playing with that the connection was broken. He blinked rapidly, holding his eye.

"Are you okay?' said a voice in front of him, near his face.

He moved his hand away and realised it was the boy he had been staring at. When he was closer, Jean recognised him even more, he just couldn't pinpoint where from.

"Who are you?' he asked, cringing in his head at how rude he must have sounded.

The other boy had just smiled.

"I'm Marco,' he said, holding out his hand which Jean shook, 'And you?"

"Jean,' he said shortly, keeping in a gasp at the feeling that flowed through his hand as he touched Marco's.

"Yeah,' the other boy had replied, 'Of course you are..."

There was a slightly awkward silence with both boys contemplating the comment before Jean spoke.

"You want to play a game?' he had asked and Marco had promptly agreed, happy for the distraction.

Ever since that day (even though Jean had bitterly lost every match against Marco) the two of them had been the best of friends. However, Jean couldn't quite shake the feeling of being on edge around the other boy, mainly because he always had a strange sense of de ja vu whenever he saw him. It was always gnawing in the back of his mind as they sat in his room playing on violent video games shoulder to shoulder or when they would be walking home from school and their hands would brush against each other in a way that was so familiar it was almost painful. He still did it.

Shaking his head, Jean parked in the familiar driveway and walked up to the front door, feeling a little self conscious with his face decked out like a skeleton. Marco's mother opened the door and jumped.

"Ah, Jean, come on in,' she cooed, 'Your face looks great!"

"Thanks,' Jean mumbled bashfully, glad that the paint covered his blush.

"Marco is upstairs,' she said, walking back towards the kitchen from whence she came, 'Just go into his room, I doubt he heard you come in!"

Jean thanked her once more and made his way upstairs. He smiled at the adorable family photos on the wall, all showing Marco in various stages of his life: Pictures of him as a baby; a snapshot of him with his first table tennis trophy; all the toothy grins and full smiles. These were all stages Jean had missed out on and he couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. He shook the feelings away before he reached Marco's room.

"Yo,' he said, tapping his knuckles on the door, 'It's me."

There was a small crash then a pause before soft footprints sounded across the carpet. Marco opened the door smiling and Jean inexplicably felt his heart turn to ice.

Marco was stood in front of him wearing just his jeans and looking as if half his body had been burnt, all the way down to his hip. He had even gone so far as to draw some convincing ribs on his side and make his eye looked as if it was suspended in the crater of his eye socket. Jean couldn't explain it but he had a sudden urge to cry. Marco's smile fell immediately.

"What?' he asked slowly, worry in his voice, '...You don't like it. It's awful, isn't it? I'll go wipe it off."

Before he could turn, Jean grasped his wrist tightly. Finally regaining the ability to speak, Jean calmed himself.

"It's not awful,' he choked out in his best comforting voice, 'It's just...convincing. It looks as if...as if half of you is missing."

He gave the other boy a wry smile. Marco looked deep into his eyes and made to speak. Then he realised that they were still in the hallway and lead Jean into his room.

"I guess convincing is what I was going for,' said Marco, as he sat on the bed and took out a small mirror to inspect his handiwork with, 'I was kind of inspired by a dream actually."

"Must have been a pretty ugly dream for you to be able to make that happen,' Jean joked as he sat down next to him, trying to lighten the mood after his earlier faux pas.

Marco just grimaced.

"Yeah,' he said, trailing off and staring at his distorted reflection.

Jean sighed. Carefully, he ran a hand along Marco's bare back, trying to soothe him. He flinched at first (Jean's hands were still cold from gripping onto the steering wheel of his car all the way here) but he soon relaxed a little. He turned away from his reflection to face Jean full on.

"Jean,' he started carefully, licking his lips, 'Do you ever feel as if we've met before?"

Jean's hand stopped in unison with his brain. Marco took the stilled fingers as a no and began to blush.

"I-I mean, sometimes I get it with other people, like Professor Yager...or that girl that works in McDonalds, Sasha is it? Anyway, it's probably just me being weird so don't worry, okay?"

Once Marco had rambled enough, Jean cleared his throat.

"It's okay Marco,' he said, sounding more confident than he felt, 'I...I feel it too."

Marco's eyes widened.

"Oh...oh good, it's weird, right? I mean, I've looked it up, stuff about past lives and really, it sounds like a load of rubbish."

"I think it's the opposite,' Jean replied, looking at the floor as he couldn't stand Marco's round puppy eyes, 'Everything feels so normal when I'm around you, like I've known you before. I've been wracking my brains for any time I may have met you, like when we were kids or something, but I...haven't really come up with anything...vaguely logical..."

He trailed off but was encouraged by Marco nodding enthusiastically from the corner of his eye.

"Yeah, and sometimes I just want to reach out and hug you,' Marco said, blushing even more, 'I...What I mean is-"

"And kiss you,' Jean cut off, not wanting to loose this unexplained surge of confidence.

Marco's movement froze. Jean looked up and saw Marco's eyes half lidded and his mouth slightly open. Before he allowed his confidence to fade, he dived in and pressed their lips together. His hands found his way to Marco's cheeks and he slowly stroked his thumbs over them. Once Marco recovered from the shock, he kissed back with just as much fevered passion as Jean. Suddenly, everything came back. Both boys gasped into each others mouths as their heads became films. There they were in their training days, laughing together, the small touches, the stolen kisses between the death and destruction until Marco was suddenly ripped apart. He swallowed hard as everything went black and opened his eyes, watching Jean as his own memories continued to play. The other boy opened his eyes, tears filling them as he looked at Marco. Carefully he pulled them close and pressed their foreheads together.

"Please,' he begged quietly, voice filled with sadness, 'Please don't leave me again..."

Marco raised his hand and ran his fingers through the other boys hair.

"I...' he whispered, 'I'll do my best..."

Jean looked up at him.

"I guess that'll have to do,' he said sadly, stroking his thumbs across Marco's cheeks before planting a small kiss on his un-painted one.

They sat in silence for a while, taking in everything that had transpired in the last few minutes. After about ten minutes of their own silent contemplation, Jean spoke.

"Do...do you still want to go to the party?' he asked Marco carefully, sniffing, 'It's your choice..."

"Do you want to?' Marco replied, raising an eyebrow.

There was a small pause.

"No,' Jean replied truthfully, 'But I'll go wherever you want to go."

Marco's face turned a deep shade of red that he tried to hide with his hand while Jean half-smiled half-frowned.

"Learn how to take a compliment dork."

Marco chuckled.

"I want to go just so everyone can see my hard work,' he said, gesturing proudly to his 'missing' ribs 'And because you're always complaining that I don't get out enough. But maybe we can sneak off early?"

"Sounds good to me,' Jean replied, kissing Marco softly on the lips before standing up, 'Just put a shirt on, I don't want anyone else to see you looking this delectable."

Marco chuckled once more, fanning his heated face with one hand.

"Yes sir."

It turned out that it was worth the pair going just so that everyone could see the look on Jean's face when their classmate Levi turned up looking incredibly smug with a pissed Professor Yager in tow.

THE END.

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 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed that! I watched the whole Attack on Titan anime in two days so after a binge of fic-reading, decided to write this little thing. Please review if you enjoyed (maybe some reviews will inspire me to write some more? ;)) and thanks for reading!**


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